A Labour of Love
by TennisMagic
Summary: Mizuki made Atobe a bento box every day.


Mizuki made Atobe a bento box every day.

It had started a month previously, after one of their little 'meetings' in the coffee shop by the train station. Mizuki's team mates called these meetings 'dates', but he knew that simply wasn't the case. After all, were they _actual_ dates, Atobe would probably make less teasing comments about Mizuki's school and his fashion sense and his tennis club. Were they actual dates, Mizuki wouldn't even dream of kicking his companion in the shins under the table.  
Also, were they actual dates, Mizuki would probably have to pay his share. Atobe always insisted on footing the bill for some reason, which was fine by Mizuki. When Atobe got fat from eating those cakes and pastries every couple of weeks, it would be entirely his own fault.

The bento boxes…At their previous meeting, Atobe had been putting down Mizuki's ability to fulfil his duties as Saint Rudolph's manager again, and he decided enough was enough.  
"I make Yuuta a bento box _every day_." He folded his arms and smiled smugly. It was true, mostly, except in reality he only did it a couple of times a week.  
Atobe didn't seem particularly impressed, and just sipped his coffee. "Your school has a dining hall for the boarding students, Mizuki. You don't need to make him lunch."  
"Well, I do anyway. Our dining hall simply doesn't provide the right food to-" he paused to glare as Atobe entered _Hyoutei: 27 Saint Rudolph: 0_ in his phone, smirking all the while. "-to _exactly_ meet all of Yuuta's needs as specified in my analysis." This too was not _entirely_ a lie, as the second year had a habit of choosing unhealthy food if Mizuki wasn't hanging over him the entire time. "Our dining hall is of a perfectly high standard!"

Atobe took one of the small sandwiches that sat on a plate between them, contemplating it. "If you're so good at these bento boxes, you should make me one. I will be the judge on that matter."  
Mizuki picked one up as well, taking a bite delicately. "I accept your challenge, all I need is your training schedule."  
"You use data, don't you?" The Hyoutei captain was smirking again, "figure it out on your own."

And that's exactly what Mizuki did. He followed the Hyoutei tennis team for a while, figured out their training schedule (which Atobe seemed to change very frequently…almost as if he knew Mizuki would be watching) and kept an eye on Atobe's eating preferences. He almost seemed to be deliberately throwing Mizuki off on that aspect, frequently buying western food at school or contradicting Mizuki's existing data. It took some time and considerable effort, but eventually Mizuki had the data he needed. He made Atobe a bento box, and one of Atobe's butlers stopped outside the Saint Rudolph gates to pick it up on the way back from some grocery shopping.

The Saint Rudolph manager had been quite unable to concentrate that day, though he wasn't sure why. Nothing seemed to catch his attention like normal, and it was really rather frustrating. He even lost his train of thought in tennis practice a few times, much to his annoyance (though apparently, nobody else on the team noticed bar Yanagisawa who had the sheer gall to say he _liked_ the new, quiet Mizuki.)  
That evening, Atobe's butler came back with the box – empty, Mizuki noticed, though he couldn't be sure if Atobe had actually eaten the food – and a small envelope. It was from Atobe himself, and appeared to be…a review? Mizuki pouted as he read the letter, which ended with a percentage and the single footnote _'I hope to see at least a five percent improvement in tomorrow's bento.'_

Five percent improvement?  
Rubbish.  
Tomorrow's bento box would be a _ten_ percent improvement, at the very least!

It became addicting, analysing Atobe's daily reviews and using them to formulate the next day's lunch. Mizuki found himself annotating those reviews, scrutinising them closely for ways to improve. Gradually, the numbers rose, but the highest percentages always seemed to elude Mizuki even with his lunch-making prowess. He would wake up early, find time to sneak down to the student kitchen in the dorms (it was small, but enough space for the students to prepare simple things like rice, cup ramen or, indeed, bento boxes) and finish the whole thing in time to meet Atobe's butler by the school gates before breakfast.  
Only a handful of people knew about it. Yuuta and Kaneda knew, as the two second years often went running together in the mornings and would pass their manager on their way out. Nomura knew, too. Mizuki's fellow third year often slept badly and would wake up long before his alarm, and go down to the kitchen for some snacks or read to pass the time. They all gave Mizuki some strange looks when he explained why he was making a lunchbox at five in the morning, but they never said anything unkind about it.

They knew far better than to say anything at all.

One day, Mizuki felt confident about the lunch he had made. He'd spent a long time planning it, choosing the best ingredients he could find; presenting it beautifully…it had to be at least a ninety. _Surely_. The day seemed to go by at a fraction of its usual speed, and Mizuki was counting the seconds. English Grammar, Math, English Conversation, History, Music, English Writing, it just took far too _long_. Even tennis was a chore that day, and he could almost feel himself sulking.

"Mizuki-san." Atobe's butler bowed politely as he handed Mizuki the empty bento box at the gates. Mizuki, having had enough of English for one day, offered a rushed 'thank you Michael' in reply before taking the box and accompanying envelope to the dorms as fast as his legs would take him. _'I'll wash the box later' _he thought, sitting on his bed and opening the envelope.

_Today's Bento Box  
Presentation has improved, once again. A good selection of colours arranged very well but it could still get even better. Carrots were cut in interesting shapes – good for presentation, but difficult to pick up with chopsticks. Practicality is key as well.  
Nutritionally well balanced, not too much rice, but rather vegetable-heavy. I grew up in England, you know, a little more meat won't exactly kill me.  
Taste was good, you appear to have picked up on what seasoning I prefer on my rice – extra points for good observation. The spinach was superb, but the rice was unfortunately slightly overdone. This has been a constant of the past week or so – keep a better eye on the rice cooker in future._

_Final Total: eighty-seven percent.  
I look forward to tomorrow's lunchbox. X_

When Akazawa returned to the dorm that evening with Kaneda, the younger boy seemed reluctant to tell him why their manager was throwing such a tantrum.


End file.
